


I Dream of Jonnie

by Amymel86



Series: Jonsa S7 Summer Challenge [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Genie!Jon, Jonsa Summer Challenge, Magic, Modern AU, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 20:59:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11494629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: Everyone's writing beautiful, heartbreaking, gorgeous fic....and I'm writing...this.....





	I Dream of Jonnie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissEmmanuelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissEmmanuelle/gifts).



> Gifted to Elle, who is my co-captain for the Jonsa Summer Challenge and is the loveliest! 
> 
> :-)

Sansa coughed and spluttered as she screwed her eyes shut tight against the swirling puffs of dust coming off of the old brassware. The trinket she was polishing had been part of a lot that Sansa bought at auction meant for her vintage tea rooms. Utterly charmed by the collection of fine bone china with dainty floral decal that made up part of the mismatched lot, Sansa remembers the elation of being declared the highest bidder at auction as she excitedly waved her little paddle with her dedicated number on. 

Having long ago integrated the little teacups, saucers, sugar bowls and teapots to her vast collection in use at Lemontree Tea Rooms, now her attention had been turned to the sad looking box of odd and ends that came with her prized china. Thinking she might fetch a fair price for it on ebay, with her little pot of polish and a rag, Sansa had set to work on a brass oil lamp. That was when a sudden outpouring of black dust began to come spewing out of the funnel, the lamp itself grew unbearably hot and was suddenly no longer within her grasp, as if the object had leapt from her hands.

The dust cloud grew and grew, it became so large that Sansa wondered how on earth all that dust could have possibly fit inside the little oil lamp? The deep dark colour of the mist brought with it a rapid panic as Sansa’s lounge was quickly engulfed in black. And then, quite suddenly, the cloud receded as if being swallowed and sucked back into the piece of brass laid on the floor. Sansa continued to cough into her fist, her eyes screwed shut and her other hand waving about wildly at a fog that was no longer there.  

“What the fuck was that all about?” She muttered to herself.

“Sorry about that - it’s been a while” came an unexpected male voice.

Sansa’s eyes flew open and she let loose a scream.

“No! No! No! Shit!” The dark haired intruder flustered as he waved his arms about “I’m not…I’m not here to hurt you” he winced through her screaming. Sansa rose from her seat on the couch and began backing away, her chest heaving from fright and the exertion form her scream, she picked up the nearest object to hand - which happened to be a magazine - she rolled it up in her hands whilst continuing to back away from the intruder.

The man’s eyebrows raised and he smirked as his hands stayed in their surrendering pose. “Are you gonna swat me like a fly milady?” He asked in amusement.

“Who are you?! What are you doing here?!” Sansa shouted, waving the rolled up magazine wildly about.  


“Calm down, I-”  


“Calm down? CALM DOWN?! A STRANGE MAN IS IN MY FLAT AND-”  


The man had snapped his fingers and just like that, Sansa’s voice was gone. Her mouth was moving, but no noise was escaping. She clutched her throat and then rounded on the stranger with the magazine again, mouthing her silent words  _‘what have you done to my voice!?’_

“Sorry about that” he said as he started looking around her lounge before walking over to her bookshelf and starting to stroke the book spines and picking up her ornaments and framed photos for his curious inspection. “Your shrieking wasn’t helping.”  


Sansa threw her arms up in exasperation. She then folded them over her chest and watched him as he assessed her decor and nick-knacks. He was dressed rather oddly for a thief - he had smart, black, quite high-waisted suit trousers on that looked as if they had been starched and pressed within an inch of their life, he wore a pristine crisp white shirt, topped off with braces and a bowtie. His jet back hair had far too much hair gel in it and was slicked to a side parting.  

“Look, I’m not here to hurt you, or steal from you or anything like that” the man turned to face her, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his feet - that were encased in the shiniest shoes Sansa had ever seen. “I’m here to help you actually.”  


Sansa stared blankly at the man, hoping all would start to make sense very soon.

“That lamp” he inclined his head towards the piece of brass on her rug “you rubbed it didn’t you?” Sansa nodded. The man started making a rolling gesture with both hands, as if he was urging her thoughts to connect the dots more quickly. Sansa unfolded her arms. Her mouth hung open. She mouthed the words  _‘you’re a fucking genie?!’_ “Jon” the man says, taking a few long strides and offering his hand. Sansa stares at it blankly.  


“If I give you your voice back, do you promise not to scream?”  


Sansa gives one sharp nod, Jon clicks his fingers.

“Why are you dressed like that?” She asks. The man looks down at his clothes and then back to her, assessing what she’s wearing - and letting his eyes linger a little too long in certain areas, making her pull her dressing gown together to cover her little camisole top and sleep shorts. Jon clears his throat, somehow making it sound like an apology. “Where are your harem pants and little jacket thingy?”  


“Ahh yes, the traditional genie attire - always hated that get-up” Jon scoffs. “What year is it anyway?” he asks, snatching the rolled up magazine from Sansa’s hand.  


“2017″

Sansa watches him curiously as he’s flicking through the pages. He nods to himself at some of the photos, clicks his finger and all of a sudden, he’s in tight grey jeans, boots, a black henley and his hair is tied neatly at the back of his head in a ‘man-bun’.

“Wow” Sansa breathes before cursing her slip. Jon grins back at her.   


“Thanks! I haven’t been out of that sodding thing since 1926! Feels good to stretch the ol’ magical muscles, so to speak”  


“This isn’t real” she whispers to herself in disbelief. “You’re a genie? A real-life magical _genie_?”  


“Yep.”  


“So…do I get-?”  


“Three wishes? Indeed you do…what’ll it be?”  


* * *

Three weeks. Three weeks and Jon’s new Wish Master had not chosen one wish yet. Not that he was complaining. Sansa Stark was by far the most attractive Master he’d ever had - and once she had begun to relax around him more (letting him at least sleep in her guest bedroom instead of back in his lamp that she would then lock in her safety deposit box overnight) Jon came to realise that she was also the sweetest Master he’d ever worked for too. He wished he could stay as her genie forever.

But he knew Sansa wasn’t hanging on to her wishes through want of his prolonged company. No, she was just one of _those_. One of those people who like to plan - like to make sure that the decisions they make are the right ones. She was simply taking her time. And then, once he grants her third and final wish, he’ll be sucked back into that infernal lump of brass once more until some other unsuspecting person rubs his lamp and he has a new Wish Master. And on and on it will go.

Jon rakes his fingers through his hair and sighs at the thought of moving on from Sansa.

“What’s wrong?”   


“Oh nothing” he reassures with a false smile. She doesn’t buy it.  


“Want some?” Sansa asks, pointing her spoon loaded with mint choc-chip ice cream at him “it always cheers me up.”  


Jon concedes and grabs the spoon, wrapping his mouth around the pale green icy cold substance as Sansa watches the movement.

“Oh this is good” he says, slightly surprised before licking the remnants from the spoon and digging it back into the tub in Sansa’s hand to retrieve more.  


“Uh-huh” she says, looking a little dazed. Shaking her head she furrows her brows “do you even _need_ to eat?”  


“No, not really…doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate some good flavours though. I like tasting things.”  


“Uh-huh” she repeats, her gaze still intent on his mouth.   


“What is it?…Have I got something on my face?” Jon asks self-consciously, licking all around his lips.

“NO! NO!..err.. I mean -” Sansa averts her eyes and clears her throat before carrying on in a calmer tone “no…you’re good” she nods. Jon shrugs.  


“So you thought any more about your wishes?”  


“Uh!” Sansa flops down onto the bar stool at her kitchen island “it’s just so hard to decide!…what do people normally wish for?”  


“Well” Jon starts, taking a seat on the other stool “after they stop trying to get me to grant the un-grantables they-”  


“The un-grantables?”  


“Yeah…you know, wishing for more wishes, bringing people back from the dead, making someone fall in love with you etc etc” Jon rattled off.  


“Oh yeah…those.”  


“Yeah, so after they try me with the un-grantables, I get a lot of  _‘I wish I was rich’, ‘I wish I was famous’, ‘I wish I had a massive dick’.”_  


Sansa failed to contain a coughing fit, causing Jon to lean over and gently pat her back. She waved him off “Wow…umm…you get a lot of _that?”_

“Yeah….I dunno…it seems important to human men” Jon shrugs “..at least important enough to waste a wish on.”

“You consider that a waste?” Sansa asked, swiping the spoon back from her genie and hiding her curious expression by pretending to be far too interested in the remaining ice cream in the tub.  


“Well I wouldn’t really know as I’ve never-”  


“You’re a virgin?! You’re….what was it?….2500 years old and you’re a _virgin_?!”  


“2431 years old actually” Jon corrects with a roll of his eyes “and it would be pretty hard for me to…. _you know_ …since I don’t even have a-”  


Jon trails off, waving his hand in the general direction of his crotch. Sansa’s mouth falls open. “You don’t have a-….Why not? What do you have?” she asks, staring at the juncture of his legs.

“I’m a genie Sansa, not a human…there’s just nothing there.”  


“Like a Ken doll?!”  


Jon laughs and scrubs at the back of his neck. “yeah…like a Ken doll.”

“How do genies… procreate?”  


“We don’t” he shrugs “We were made with magic, back when it was stronger in the world….there were about 10 of us in all and we’ve just….existed….a lot of our time is spent between Masters…there’s less of us now of course….I heard Theon’s lamp got buried in an as yet undiscovered Egyptian tomb…so I guess he’s just waiting for some archaeologist to unearth him….then I heard Val got lucky and managed to get her final Master to wish her to become human.”

“Is that what _you_ want? To be human?”   


“I’d just like to be free” Jon shrugged, swiping back the ice cream and spoon.  


Sansa studied him before making up her mind. “I’ll wish you were human…if that’s what you want?”

Jon’s breathing slowed and his hand holding the spoon stilled. His heart raced as he slowly brought his eyes to meet Sansa’s. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ll do it” She takes a deep inhaling breath, looking like she is about to declare the words - her wish that is also his.   


“Wait! What about your other two wishes? Once I’m human, I won’t be able to grant you anything.”  


“You can’t give me what I really want anyway” Sansa says, in a small voice, staring unseeing at a fixed point over Jon’s shoulder.  


“And what’s that?” he asks gently.  


“To love someone, and have them love me back. Truly, unconditionally…..you can’t grant me that.”   


There’s a story or two behind the sadness in her eyes - this much Jon knows. Maybe she’ll tell him those stories, maybe she won’t, but she is wrong about one thing. “I could.” Jon declares softly. “I think I’m already half in love with you already…” he explains after seeing the confused look on her face.  


Sansa scans his features for any falsity or mocking, her own expression softening slightly when she finds none. 

“But you’ve only known me for two weeks.”  


“Three.”  


“Yes - because that extra week makes all the difference” Sansa responds sarcastically. Jon rolls his eyes and huffs before taking the spoon and ice cream from her and setting it down on the kitchen island so that he is able to scoop up her hands in his.  


“There is other magic in this world besides genie magic Sansa….I’d like to share it with you…if you want me to?”  


“I…” she stutters, taking a gulp and watching the way Jon’s thumbs sweep softly across her knuckles “I think I’d like that.”  


Bringing her hands up to his lips, Jon places a gentle kiss on her skin and gives her an encouraging smile. “Your other two wishes then?…what will it be my love?”

Sansa’s eyes start to scan her kitchen, as if it might hold some helpful clues. She frowns when she spies the tub of mint choc-chip. “More ice cream”.

“Seriously?”  


Sansa nods enthusiastically.

“Alright” Jon shrugs. He snaps his fingers and three extra tubs of ice cream appear on the island counter. Sansa grabs her spoon and tears open one of the new tubs, closing her eyes and letting out a little groan of relish as the spoon slips out of her lips. Jon watches her intently, making her blush a little.  


“Will…umm….once you’re human….you’ll have….all the human parts?”  


“Err….yes…I guess I will.” Jon says, his own cheeks turning a bit pink in turn.  


“Ok” Sansa says, licking her spoon clean and placing it down on the counter-top “for my second wish…..I wish for…condoms.” Jon’s eyes widen. He gulps and clicks his fingers. His eyes never leave her as there’s suddenly a literal shower of shiny square packets. They instantly drop everywhere - piled on the counter-tops, all over the floor and even in the sink. There must be hundreds. Sansa lets out a bark of laughter. “Plan on being busy do we?”

“Better safe than sorry.” he grins.  


Sansa picks out a foil packet that has somehow managed to wind up in her hair, she raises her brows as she’s scrutinising the writing on it. “XXL huh?”

“Apparently size is important.”  


Sansa giggles prettily, her eyes dance and sparkle and Jon thinks that he may not be _half_ in love with her after all….perhaps he’s fallen completely, never to return. He barely knows what he’s doing until it’s done - he’s taken her face in his hands and is kissing her rosy lips. He’s sloppy and unpractised but after her initial swallowed gasp and shock, Sansa guides him to a slower pace.

Pulling away, he stares at her, his breaths ragged and his lips slightly swollen. He slides his hands from either side of her face down to her slender neck, fingers speared through her hair at the base of it and his thumbs brushing gently against her cheekbones.

“It…err…when you want to…use..one of those…it will be my first time….you might need to go easy on me” Jon says with a self-deprecating, nervous laugh. Sansa wraps her hands around his wrists, stroking the skin she finds there.

“As long as you go easy on me with your massive magical monster cock.”  


As their combined laughter fades, Jon swears he feels the air in the room shift. Sansa gives his wrists a squeeze and offers him a soft smile with twinkling eyes.

“Are you ready for my final wish Jon?”  



End file.
